


Something More

by fujinumasatorus



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Fighter AU, M/M, Mentions of Injuries, barista!wonho, because who doesn't love and almost but not really coffee shop au, fighter!shownu, nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fujinumasatorus/pseuds/fujinumasatorus
Summary: “You keep running away from me.”Hyunwoo’s mouth feels like cotton, choking down any word threatening to form. He closes it, opens, wets his lips to get rid of the dry sensation and give himself more time to think. Hoseok follows every movement. He watches so intently, as if he glances away even for a second, Hyunwoo will disappear.He’s right.
Relationships: Lee Hoseok | Wonho/Son Hyunwoo | Shownu
Comments: 11
Kudos: 70





	Something More

**Author's Note:**

> shh i dont know how underground fighting works so let's just go for it
> 
> not beta read sorry for the spelling errors

_Breathe in 3... 2... 1.._

_Breathe out 7.. 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.._

Hyunwoo’s eyes flit open, breath finally even. His face is composed, lips pulled tight so the air only escapes his nostrils. It keeps his breathing slow, controlled. Once he’s in rhythm, the timing won’t change.

The feeling is all too familiar, something he’s perfected in his time. Before an actor goes on stage, getting into character means putting on a persona and then performing with it. Engaging the audience, captivating them with passionate verbatim, are musts once center stage. He’s somewhat of a performer. Though, for him, it’s not a theater, but jumping into the ring. 

And now, he’s ready for the show.

Soon he’ll exit the filth of the back room given to him to prepare before the match. It’s pint size, but it’s a space for himself, away from the crowd, before the flashing lights can parade down on him.

Face serene as an untouched lake, before the people fill it with boats, swimming children, and fishing lures, he waits for his name to be called. Underneath the mask he’s placed himself his veins are on fire. His finger twitches. It’s the only crack he’ll allow.

Three rapid knocks come from the doorway, as much consideration as he’ll get before a man sticks his face in. Brown hair rests on his head, slicked back under a headband. His appearance is normal at a glance, until he sees a lab coat and stethoscope. 

Hyunwoo wouldn’t trust him for medical help that’s for sure.

“Shownu, my man are you ready?” Jooheon asks, even though there isn’t any time left. He needs to be out of the doors in the next minute or two. The crowd will grow restless, fall into an even greater chaos than they already are.

He nods.

“Then let’s go.”

He waits for Hyunwoo to walk out of the entryway first before following close behind. He’s like a little dog, overly excited, but still good company. He’s never said it out loud, but he appreciates the little routine they have going on. He’s not alone as he enters the arena, before he has to bare himself before the masses where it will only be him up against another.

He doesn’t even flinch as Jooheon smacks him, rubbing his palms over the back muscles. His hands are warm compared to the cold room they had left, mixed with the movements, it eases his body. His last match left him sore, three days have passed, yet he’s still feeling it. Pain medication and salonpas only go so far. 

“This guy is nothing, you’ll have him out in seconds,” his companion says, but Jooheon tends to allude to the minor details. He is a good fighter, great in fact, he’s not wrong there, but Jooheon neglects to notice how strong the opponent can be. “He’s about your height, but way smaller. You could probably bend him in half.”

Hyunwoo doesn’t let the description give an actual idea of the opponent. He holds no expectations for the match, if he does, and he’s wrong, then he’ll be thrown off. He’d rather start with a blank slate even though he knows Jooheon is just trying to help.

They get to the last lengths of the hallway. He can see the bright lights filter through, some move rapidly around the arena, some are secured for only the ring.

“I gotta go now. As much as I wanna walk in with you ya know, can’t make it seem like I’m biased for tonight’s match.”

With a final wink Jooheon heads to the tangent hallway which leads to his own personal doorway as MC for the evening. Hyunwoo watches, counting the steps until they completely fade away.

He soon runs out of his respective entrance. He greets the crowd, a group of barbaric individuals all on the same level as the other fighters, even himself. They cheer, throw food, probably knock into each other without a care.

“On the left, back once again. You know him well, 181 centimeters, bigger than a beast! Fists so powerful they’ve taken down hundreds. Shownu,” he drags out the two syllables of his pseudonym as everyone roars. No doubt there are regulars in the crowd, some that come everyday, maybe even just to see him.

Hyunwoo holds down any sense of pride attempting to swell within him from the volume as he heads to the center of the room. The lot of them aren’t really there for him or on his side. They want to see a good fight, which he can provide. It’s entertainment after all, for them. The second he fails, they’ll turn on him, see him as a lesser being, even though they’ve all been lured to the same odious basement to watch as two people attempt to rip out each other’s throats.

They’re both participants, unsure whether or not one person is worse. Him for fighting, or the people for watching. But he’s here for a reason, to win. The reward will keep him alive awhile longer.

He looks down to his bandage covered knuckles, already grimy from the edges of the ring as he climbs in. His opponent is introduced in a similar manner. Shownu has never seen him before.

He sizes the guy up, their eyes meet on the same level. Jooheon was right, he is thin, but he doesn’t for a second think that gives him any advantage. Looks can be deceiving. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Jooheon escape under the ropes to safety. 

He breathes in _3.. 2.. 1.._

The bell rings.

0

“Shownu, what did I say? Easy win, right?”

He’s in the back after finishing counting up his winnings. His victory brought him just enough to get him through the next few weeks, but it didn’t come easy as Jooheon had expected. Strength wasn’t the issue, it was speed. His opponent had Hyunwoo running around the ring as he dodged stealthy punches and quick strikes. 

Some, he couldn’t escape. The trickles of blood streaming from his forehead serve as a reminder. A few cuts have already started to clot, leaving an unpleasant crust on his skin. He blames himself for taking so long to match the other’s rhythm. It had taken time, but after the first blow from his own fists, he knew for certain the match was his for the taking.

“We’re cleaning up here. I wrote you down for another match in four days is that good?”

“Yeah, I’ll need it.”

His own rule as of late has been to not have more than two matches a week. It gives him time away from the ring, to focus on his personal affairs (job searching), and let’s him rest in between (he can only blame so many cuts as shaving mistakes). 

If he receives new bruises every single day, they will never go away. He would be a tainted canvas, never the same visually, but always covered. Blemished. He couldn’t let himself show up to a place of business like that. He spreads himself out rather than earn a daily wage from the dangerous game he plays. Trying to fight everyday would be ridiculous anyhow.

Hyunwoo lifts his duffle over his shoulder, careful that nothing falls out, as the threads on the side are coming undone. He picks at it, wondering if sewing will be enough will save it. When he looks up, he sees Jooheon eyeing the holes as well.

“You know, Hyunwoo,” his eyes widen, from the surprise of being called by his given name, “if you need a place to crash tonight you can come with me.” 

It’s not the first time Jooheon has made the suggestion. He assures Hyunwoo he’s welcome into his home any time, either when the match is difficult or even to simply just not be alone for a night. Hyunwoo knows he means well, but he can’t do it. He can’t let Jooheon get involved in his personal business.

“I have a place,” he insists. No matter how simple it is, he has somewhere to call his own.

“One with heating? A bed?”

Hyunwoo bites his lip, not comfortable with where the conversation is headed. He can take care of himself. He always has. He doesn’t need someone else to do it for him. Nor can he think to impose on Jooheon or his willowy boyfriend.

“I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Hyunwoo.” The concern is palpable from a single word, but for some reason he can’t take it for anything more than degradation. “Really.” 

Jooheon is kind, he knows that, even if he really shouldn’t be, especially towards him. 

No one in the circuit is particularly close, other than being allies when they need it. But, on more than one occasion they have shared a round of drinks. Times where Hyunwoo had a few too many, revealed a little more than he should have, and regretted later when the other started asking questions. 

After Jooheon’s first offer of assistance, he started to distance himself, not wanting the other to feel obligated to do anything for him. Their little pep talks are enough for him. They provide him all of the encouragement and security he needs. He won’t ask for anything else.

“See you.”

He walks out the door without another word.

From down the hall Jooheon shouts, _“at least let me clean up your face! you’re bleeding!”_

It doesn’t stop him. He continues on back to his one bedroom apartment even while knowing it’s all the ways Jooheon thinks of it, but worse. It’s enough for him, on his budget. There’s no need for complaints in his situation, when he knows that as soon as he makes it better he won’t need to continue where he’s at.

Having somewhere to go, doesn’t stop him from walking slower than usual. All of the blows he couldn’t escape start to sting. His brisk exit from the hall turns into a sedated stroll.

From his stomach to shoulders, he feels multiples areas pulsate, bruises soon to form if they haven’t already. Even if the match ended soon after his first hit, all the ones prior against him beat with pain. He’s not normally in this much pain. Soreness comes eventually, but not this fast.

He hasn’t yet reached his apartment when he decides to stop on the sidewalk. His back presses against the cold brick, scraping him even more as he slides down to sit.

He’s fine. Or he will be. He just needs a minute to compose himself. Any fast or deep inhales would tear into his chest even more. When his eyes flutter shut he’s taken from the overwhelming crowd around the ring, away from the filth of the street. It’s nothing but silence, with him sitting immersed into it. He twitches from the pain, only him to feel it. The world is black-

“Hey,” a voice comes, breaking through the emptiness of the road side. 

Hyunwoo flicks his eyes open, barely looking up. He finds someone standing on the pavement beside him, that he hadn’t noticed was there at all, like they materialized out of thin air.

The man’s a vision in white, something unreal. For a second, he doesn’t realize it’s the glow from nearby glass windows. 

Maybe he’s worse than he thought. Maybe he’s lying somewhere in a ditch, dead, and already being greeted by an angel in a white button up, black frames, and a pink apron.

“We’re closed. You can’t be out here.”

He wasn’t even aware that he was somewhere. And yet, he’s already not welcome. 

He takes in the man, pale skin, chest broad under his fine pressed uniform. While the guy is big, Hyunwoo doesn’t feel any sort of intimidation coming from him. He sees nothing more than puffed out cheeks under gentle eyes. He could easily bench press Hyunwoo, but he probably doesn’t have the will to. He’s learned to read other’s eyes from his work underground.

Again, looks are deceiving.

“I just needed to sit a minute,” he eventually mumbles.

He starts up again, but the pain punches through his side making him fall back to the ground.

“Hey, are you okay?” The man’s tone changes, softer, worried. He groans. “Oh, my god. You’re bleeding. Let me help you.”

“It’s fine,” Hyunwoo tries, but the man has already disappeared from where he once stood. 

It doesn’t matter, in a minute he’ll hoist himself up and be on his way. He’s done it by himself in the past, and he can do it again. The man is back out before he can do just that.

“It’s not much,” he says, apologetic. 

Hyunwoo can’t tell what’s in his hands, but he suddenly feels wet as a moistened rag presses to his forehead. With gentle strokes the man wipes away what Hyunwoo assumes is dried blood and grime. He’s covered in it, so much that it will take more than one rag to clean him. The man shouldn’t even bother. 

He wants to tell him that, but when he looks up he loses the words. He can feel his mouth fall open, his mind suddenly entranced by the man above him now that he’s close. 

His lips are in a full pout as he concentrates, mouth pretty and pink against his skin. His eyes are focused, but just as soft as he originally saw. The man is probably kind, helping because he genuinely wants to, not out of any obligation. 

For a moment, he’s under a spell. He almost wants to keep staring, but he can’t. He shouldn’t burden anyone else with his troubles. Hyunwoo raises an arm to nudge the other away, but instead the man grabs his wrist, holding it firm so he can examine it. 

“There’s blood all over you, are you cut somewhere else?”

“It’s not mine,” he breathes out. Well, not all of it at least.

“Not yours?”

He feels the man flinch. Obviously not the best thing to admit, but did by mistake. Hyunwoo needs to leave, now. He uses the shock to stand, removing himself from the other’s warm grasp. It makes the other fall back on his hands, but he doesn’t stay to help, even if sorry he knocked him over.

“Wait!”

With no intention of looking back, swipes his bag up and runs unlike before. He makes it all the way to his pathetic apartment in a sprint. He’ll feel the strain tomorrow, but he got away quickly and that’s what matters. 

He falls into "bed", avoiding any thought of the night’s encounters, and closes his eyes to enter a monotonous sleep.

0

The alarm on his phone blares, waking Hyunwoo from his dreamless sleep. Any thoughts of the previous night's match are hidden to the deep corners of his mind. He’s done it so much it happens without thought. Move forward, not look back.

He rips off his single sheet covering his makeshift mattress of pillows to step in the shower. He’s still littered in grime, a mix of dried sweat and dirt from the ring. He arrived home and immediately fled to his covers wanting nothing more than to move on from the unexpected meeting. They will need to be washed as well.

The icy water pierces his skin, the pelt of each droplet stings as they run over his bruises. The prickling of the water at least wakes him up. As it leaks towards his stomach, he releases a long hiss, hoping to help relieve the painful sensation. It doesn’t.

He sticks his head under. 

Finally clean, he exits the shower, slow and careful as to not slip and risk any more injury. The throbbing has gone away, leaving his upper body the usual sore he had expected to feel anyways.

The cold air of the apartment leaves him shivering, as if the shower itself wasn’t bad enough. But he can’t afford the heater, so he’s left to fight the nipping air. No mattress, lack of heating, a space barely suitable for anyone to live in, he has to persevere through it.

He stares into the mirror. His face is freshly groomed for the day, which is the only positive thing he can say about his reflection. His under eyes are puffy from lack of sleep, scars have healed time and time over again on his forehead, some still visible as they’re just below his hairline. A fresh bloom of blue and purple sprout above his right eyebrow.

He grabs a small bottle of concealer, twirling it in his hands thinking how something so small could be his saving grace. He twists open the cap hoping there’s enough left to cover what he needs.

From there on, he walks up to the small armoire, grabbing the only pressed shirt on the rack, a light blue long sleeve. Yellows bruises litter his forearms, but thankfully they don’t reach his hands. As flimsy as the wraps are, they save him from more damage. His morning routine has turned to an entire process of disguise, to keep hidden what the world can’t see. Everyone does it in some sense, but it feels worse on his part; knowing he intentionally partakes in something so dangerous. 

With his outfit set, he grabs his single, brown case laid on top of his corner table. Inside the papers are bundled into the folder keeping them sterile and straight. He hopes the words describing his education, past experience, and future goals, will be enough this time.

Enough to get him away from the ring with security.

With a flame that refuses to die, he walks all the way up to a small, white office building. He once studied economics. He gave his all to grasp the technicalities of production and consumption, but the older he got, employers saw his education as dated rather than useful. 

Regardless of those he's been rejected by, other companies are in need of someone to do the work he has done. 

The window panes are transparent, inside people mull around the front desk. If he gets this, he’ll be the same. It’s not a bad thing, there’s structure to the formal setting, something he’s craved to be a part of.

He takes in the sight once more before reaching for the door handle.

_Breathe in 3.. 2.. 1.._

0

He’s back for another match, waiting in the grotty setting of the underground club. Tonight is another chance for him to earn enough to make it through the next few weeks, money for food and rent. After his earlier disappointment, he needs something. He’ll take this even if he’d rather earn it somewhere else. 

He has another chance for that something else in three days, but now that he’s there, there’s no time to think about it. If he slips, loses focus on the match before him, he could hurt himself, even worse he could lose it all. 

While sitting in the dreary backroom waiting to be called out on stage, he wraps his hands. Even if just pulled out of his bag, dirt has found their way on them. He wonders why he can’t even begin the match on a clean slate, as if he’s permanently stained from the filth of the ring. He needs new bandages, a new bag, how ironic that he cannot have those luxuries unless he wins here. 

“Shownu, my man,” Jooheon’s voice comes through. 

Even if unintentionally, whenever the man comes by, his words pull Hyunwoo from the doubts he has. He stays in the middle of the doorframe, a sign that there’s two minutes before he’ll go out in the ring. 

“You ready?”

His lips stay firmly connected when he nods. There’s no need for distracting words, after all. He walks out to the hallway first, Jooheon follows within seconds. As encouraging as ever, he rubs at Hyunwoo’s back. Thankfully it doesn’t sting, as the previous pain of his bruises have dwindled to nothing. But he thinks he would take the hurt as long as it meant he could keep their little pep talks.

“By the way, how’d the job interview go the other day?” Jooheon says instead of his usual information dump.

Hyunwoo’s eyes blink wide, certainly surprised by the last topic of conversation he expects. This isn’t the place to talk about their outside lives, some sort of unspoken rule, except there are no rules here. They’re here to fight, not indulge in each other’s daily activities.

“What?” He lets the word escape.

“I wasn’t trying to be creepy, I promise. I just saw you walking up to an office uptown. You had a briefcase in hand. Kind of assumed.”

“Right,” he settles. Jooheon still looks at him with expectant eyes. “I’m gonna keep trying.”

It’s not that Hyunwoo didn’t interview well, he just had heard the same excuse he hears all the time after a company isn’t interested. 30 isn’t old, but old enough that they’d rather hire someone fresh from university, with the same credentials.

Jooheon looks away, probably regretting having asked. He shouldn’t feel bad, it isn’t his fault Hyunwoo wasn’t selected.

“You looked good by the way, clean up nice.”

It’s the last thing he says before leaving him. He listens as the thunderous footsteps fade. In what feels like seconds, the crowd cheers. Jooheon greets them vivaciously through the microphone, he almost can’t keep up.

Waiting for his introduction, Hyunwoo closes his eyes once more, needing to return himself to his headspace of tranquility. He breathes in a deep inhale, but the noise of the crowd interrupts him. There’s no time to go back and bask in the silence. He walks out. 

The crowd feels more animated than before, there are maniacal shrieks, bangs against the bleachers. The flashing lights burn brighter than he expects, turning the stadium into a haze. He can see the figures of Jooheon and his opponent. She’s short, but well built. 

His breathing slows down to the usual beats he calms himself to, but his mind has yet to rescind from the distractions of his surroundings. 

Jooheon leaves the rings. He raises his arms to defend.

_Breathe in 3... 2... 1.._

0

He leaves the venue before Jooheon can come looking for him. The match was rough, not the worst he has ever encountered, but certainly not the best. He couldn’t escape a lingering sense of unease, something he hasn't felt for a long time while in the ring. 

He won the match, but he feels no sense of glory or satisfaction. The only thing that saved him was his instincts. His body had reacted to the blows as they happened, protecting him from the worst of hits while his mind attempted to reel itself in.

Instead he feels ashamed. A crack in his shell distracted him when he had needed to focus most. He should be grateful it didn’t end another way.

The guilt follows him until he reaches a small noodle shop, still open despite the hour. He’s starving. Tonight’s winning are meant to be saved, but he can spare the change for one bowl, even if he doesn’t think he deserves it.

He hopes he’s not too filthy, considering he did a quick job of cleaning himself up to get out as quickly as possible. His hoodie can only cover so much. He could be on the same level as other clients that aren’t in the finest of states either. They may not necessarily be unclean, just tired with messy hair from having rolled out of bed just for a bowl.

He steps up to the red bar counter, taking an end seat as far away from anyone that he can, not wanting to disturb them. There’s only a few other people out. Some aren’t eating, only nursing drinks in their hands. There’s a pleasant chatter, amused smiles being shared among the patrons. He watches by himself. Alone.

He’s the only dreary pawn threatening to topple the surprising calm ambiance. He settles quietly, swallowing any miserable words that threaten to overtake his mind. 

He reminds himself he’s there for food, something he needs, not anything else. He orders the largest size he can get without breaking budget, a practical splurge. If he manages his money well, it should all be fine to spend. He knows he can always schedule another match if it comes down to it, but he’d rather it be a last resort than a cushion.

He wastes no time digging in after he gets his bowl. The broth is warm, fills his nose with hints of blended spices. He pays little mind to the upbeat music playing from behind the counter, as well as the murmurs of chatter from down the line. They’re comforting sounds soon after, instead of abrasive leeches on his thoughts.

“You.”

He doesn’t register the word, not knowing it’s directed at him. His communication with others has dwindled down to nothing more than formalities of those he passes. He would never expect anyone to call out to him. Only when a shadow moves in his peripheral vision does he look away from the broth. 

“Me?” he asks once finished slurping up a noodle that didn’t make it all the way into his mouth.

In front of him stands the man he saw days ago, after his last match. Here, it’s clear he’s no illusion. This time around, he isn’t mistaken from an unclear head. He’s not dying, there’s no angel next to him, even if the man still kind of looks like one. 

“Yeah, you,” he repeats. “From the other night. You ran before I could finish cleaning you up.”

He feels smaller under the man’s gaze. It’s firm, he doesn’t turn away. Even in the low lighting of the night sky, he’s been laid out, no cover from the curious eyes of someone he ran to escape days before.

A pit of uncertainty refills his stomach.

“Can I sit?”

Before he can speak, the man seats himself right onto the chair next to Hyunwoo. The legs scrape the floor as he pulls himself towards the bar, loud and resolute.

The man is bundled similarly to himself this time around, in pants and black hoodie instead of the shop uniform. He sports a different set of lenses, still black, but this time a thin wire frame. They suit his face nicely, Hyunwoo thinks for a second. Then he blinks from remembering something so insignificant.

He can feel the warmth coming from him as their legs hover near each other. He hadn’t realized how close the seats were to each other. 

Hyunwoo watches wordlessly as he greets the seller, undoubtedly familiar with the man and orders a bowl the same size he had. 

He doesn’t say a word at first, the only noises are of checks being signed from down the line and the broth boiling over the stove. It’s strange, he’s never been in such a situation. The last time he ate with Jooheon is because they had both agreed and planned, nothing unexpected. Here they had no schedule, but they're free and in public. It's not like he can just send the other away. He reaches for his glass of water, desperate for a drink.

“My name’s Hoseok.” He turns his head from the menu to face Hyunwoo. “And you?”

With his mouth full, he debates for a minute, whether or not to give his name. Even his stage name feels wrong, like it’ll begin some sort of familiarity between them, when he shouldn’t be getting involved. He doesn’t know why the other would want to know his name anyhow. 

“Hmm?” Hoseok, he now knows, hums when no answer comes.

“Did you need something?” he asks instead after swallowing. He figures he must want something, why else would he bother asking?

Hoseok eyes him, pout settling on the corners of his lips, still just as pink and full as the bottom juts out. Hyunwoo flick his eyes back up. He needs to stop noticing the little details.

“I don’t need anything particularly, but I would like to know your name. I just gave you mine.”

His eyebrows go up, expectant.

“Hyunwoo,” he reveals instead of keeping the other waiting.

“Nice to meet you, Hyunwoo.” His voice is light, there’s a smile intertwined in the words. “How is your eye by the way?”

“Huh?”

“Your eye,” he points to his own face, mirroring where it would have been on himself. “Or above it. You didn’t even let me finish cleaning it up.”

His scars heal, he moves on from them without a second thought. He genuinely hadn’t thought again of the bleeding. 

“Fine,” he answers. Which he is, the cut healed over quickly. “Thank you by the way. You didn’t need to.”

“I should have done more, but you ran before I could.”

“It was just a little bruise, nothing to fuss about.”

“I remember some blood.”

“It wasn’t all mine.”

He winces again. When he peeks to look at Hoseok, he doesn’t look shocked like the first time, he’s watching curiously. He does swallow once, showing that maybe he isn’t all that bothered by Hyunwoo’s statement. It makes Hyunwoo want to flee once more, but he hasn’t paid. He couldn’t do that.

“Whose was it? How’d it get there?”

“You want to know?”

“Well if I’m sitting with a murderer it would be smart to call the police, no?”

Hoseok smiles, his nose wrinkles up, teeth peeking. He easily picks up the hint of teasing. Hyunwoo smiles back, cheeks lifting to give his eyes the lines he's insecure about.

“Nothing like that,” he assures. “I’m. Well.”

He wets his lips, second guessing telling his unofficial profession. It isn’t anything admirable, it’s for those at the bottom of the barrel, who have absolutely nothing to lose. That’s what it feels like for him, at least. He’s been hurt on more than one occasion. In it, he’s made enemies. Every time he wants to escape, he’s lured back by it’s promises of winnings.

He could lay it all out, be seen as the reckless and desperate person he has seen himself as. Or he could sit here and be assumed a killer.

“Boxing club?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No, no, that was it. It just got a bit out of hand.”

“Did you go to boxing club again tonight?”

“I did. Came to eat after,” he points to his bowl just as Hoseok’s gets set down. His words get looser, it’s a bit easier to answer, but not enough that he’s completely unstiffen. 

Hoseok pulls his utensils out of the wooden box on the upper counter, just as eager as Hyunwoo to start eating, but he’s sure to thank the server before turning back.

“How did it go tonight?”

“Hmm?”

“Boxing club?”

“Oh. It was a rough match, but no blood this time.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Whether or not he believes Hyunwoo about his “club”, Hoseok doesn’t prod further. Hyunwoo pauses, they’re sitting normally, and nothing bad has happened. Hoseok appears so comfortable that he’s even eating without regard, hunched over his bowl.

He stares back into his own, half finished, still warm. There’s no reason for him to flee the scene, it's almost nice. He starts eating again.

Every once and awhile, he glances over to Hoseok, a tad wary of what could happen. But it all stays the same. His cheeks are stuffed, full as he munches on bean sprouts. Both of them will slurp when the ingredients dare miss their lips.

Hoseok’s eating faster than Hyunwoo had when he first sat. _And he thought he was hungry._ On the corner of Hoseok’s mouth broth actually does drip out. He watches it fall, unsure if he should say anything. It could fall onto the counter, or worse his sleeve. Mostly, it just looks funny.

He gets caught staring.

“Is there something on my face?”

“There is actually,” he raises his hand, Hoseok’s eyes follow. “You’re spilling broth.”

The other’s eyes widen, lips puckering up as he searches for a napkin. Hyunwoo hands over his, grinning all the while.

Their conversation picks up again, even when Hyunwoo initially didn’t want it to. But Hoseok is something else, inviting. Maybe for a second he lets himself be let in.

“How is your bowl? Good, I’m guessing?” he asks. Hoseok places down his napkin, chin clean from the spilled liquid. 

“It is. This is one of my favorite places to come to. Also pretty good that it stays open this late.”

“I’ve never been here before.” 

He doesn’t frequent many restaurants, he’s actually pretty skilled with a knife and cutting board. He’s learned many (affordable) recipes over the years, so going out doesn’t always appeal to him. When he does, it's mostly because he's tired and can't will himself to prep something from the ingredients in this fridge.

“Did you like it?”

“I did. Pretty good for just the first place I saw open.”

Hoseok’s smile goes from soft to cheeky. The more animated their conversation gets, the more playful he becomes.

“Then maybe we can come here again.”

For a second, he wonders if he’s heard wrong, but then he knows no, his mind only wanted to convince him otherwise. Smooth like a basalt stone, Hoseok slips the suggestion into their conversation. 

And just like that, Hyunwoo feels like it’s too much. Hoseok is a good guy, probably great in fact. Just in one sitting he feels warm, friendly, and even makes Hyunwoo smile like he hasn’t in a while. All of those reasons are exactly why Hyunwoo can’t drag him down to his world.

“I need to leave,” he spouts suddenly.

A splash of confusion hits Hoseok’s face, before his expression falls completely, understanding the words.

“What?” 

“Sorry for bothering you tonight. And the other day. I’m going to go. Get home safe,” he clips short, robotically. 

He stands from the stool, pushes his bowl forward before grabbing his bag and leaving a few bills.

He’s ready to turn away when Hoseok grabs his bicep. He hadn’t even noticed him stand. For someone so seemingly harmless, he has a firm grip, securing Hyunwoo in his place.

“Would you like to meet again? This,” he glances back to the stand, “we had fun, right?”

He wants to tell Hoseok,_ yes_, that he had fun, that it bounced his evening back up from its low, but he won’t let the words out. He pulls his arm away and jogs off leaving Hoseok with an open mouth, alone at the bar.

He has no fresh wounds to stop him, even the typical ache he feels after a match do nothing.

0

Three days later he finishes his next job interview. He feels much better about it than the last, but not enough that he thinks he has it in the bag. He’s felt that before about a job and the results proved to be otherwise. Optimism and hope can overlap, but he doesn’t get them confused.

He’s had enough failures to know when one is coming. It’s not that pessimism has wholeheartedly wormed its way into all aspects of his life, he just knows when to be realistic.

In a match, he’s sure. He knows the floor well enough to feel he can take the match. It’s in his fluid moves, in his loose muscles. Any time he can put himself into the right space, success follows.

Even on the days when his focus slips off the mark, he can hold up his facade and _win._

He can’t figure out how to translate the confidence over to his professional life.

He goes to job interviews, interested in the work, the company, but they seldom share the same eagerness. He has studied, researched. He doesn’t want the efforts to be wasted, especially when he hasn’t given up on it himself.

Outside of matches and job searching, Hyunwoo has difficulty keeping busy. It’s as if those two things have taken his time and left little thoughts for anything else.

He cleans, makes the occasional shopping trip for necessities, cooks homemade meals to better manage his budget than frivolously spending his earnings on nightly dinner outings. He runs, one to keep in shape for his own personal health and then to make sure he’s fit enough for the ring. 

When he isn’t doing any of those things, he feels lost.

Those few tasks take up a majority of his time, to the point where when he has free time, he spends more hours pondering what to do than actually doing anything. On his worst days, he finds himself alone in his apartment, no will to even go outside. There's nothing to see, nothing to do, so he seats himself against the back wall of his living room area and waits for something to come while mindlessly passing the time fiddling with any small item he has lying around.

0

He’s nearly finished up his daily run, bouncing in place as he glances down to his watch seeing how much time he managed to kill. Not enough that he can and shower go to sleep early and keep on his schedule. No matches, no interviews, he still has the late evening to fill. He adds to the route instead, being able to handle a spontaneous decision to his exercise.

He takes the longer way to his apartment, a path he’s rarely used. There’s never really a need for it unless he’s heading back from a match. During a descension, a coffee shop comes within purview. Another glance at his watch, he chooses to kill more time.

He doesn't know the place well, but he has passed it on occasion. There's something else about it he can't put his finger on and doesn't know why considering he’s never been inside. For a moment he hesitates, but a simple thought passes through his mind, to go on in, and he does.

On both sides of the room, students are face first in either a laptop or book, maybe studying, maybe not. They’re the majority of the clientele, but a few folks even older than himself seem to enjoy the atmosphere. The place looks modern, welcoming enough for all.

The menu spans above the entire counter. The long board, indented from the writing, is filled with more choices than expected. Some of the names are funny, lacking any description of what’s inside so he’s more lost on picking something to drink. 

He turns back to the short line, taking a few careful steps behind the last person. His eyes look for a hand held menu, anything that lists the specifics of their specialties so he won't sputter confusedly when he reaches the front.

“Hyunwoo?”

He hears it again, someone calling his name when no one should be.

There ahead of him, Hoseok walks out of the backroom. He’s dressed once again in a crisp white shirt, fitted black jeans, and a pink apron. Hyunwoo’s jaw tightens, as does his posture. 

Both are stuck, looking at the other as if they’re each unbelievable. Hyunwoo wonders if he’s being toyed with, any wishes or desires he has are disregarded then thrown to the side. The night he fell he wanted nothing more than to cower away and heal by himself. The night he left the noodle stand, he was set on keeping the other out of his life, yet here they are face to face again. 

He holds Hoseok’s gaze for only a moment before turning his head back towards the entrance for an escape. His eyes find the glass window to the shop, clear in his path. Peering off to the right, he sees the brick wall which locks in place the reality of where he is.

It’s like he can feel the rugged surface scraping his back once more.

He doesn’t run out, wanting to at all costs avoid causing a scene. A few members of the shop have turned to face him, but turned back to their own business when he doesn’t say a word. He calmly makes his way to the door, but Hoseok has no mind for that. He speeds out past the counter to latch onto Hyunwoo’s sleeve.

He feels eyes on him once more, different than the strict interviewers, different than the enthusiastic crowd. They’re all watching, wondering, waiting for something to blow up in the most mundane of places. 

“Don’t leave just yet, you didn’t even order.”

When he looks over, Hoseok’s expression isn’t something he’s seen directed towards himself. Expectant eyes glisten, mixed with almost desperation. His lips are pressed tight, waiting for him to respond. He can’t wrap his head around why the man is so adamant on speaking with him nor why he hopes he won’t go away.

They’re not somewhere Hyunwoo can easily break away like an empty street or a near vacant shop in the middle of the night. It’s neither his territory or a free plot for all. It’s Hoseok’s.

He can’t do anything without an uproar.

So he nods, accepting the suggestion rather than argue. Hoseok releases him, slowly, never looking away, and heads back to the coffee machines.

He’s fine, probably. The more often he speaks it into the universe, it’ll someday be true. He stares back up at the menu, still lost. The creative names muddle together, he still can’t make any sense of them. Why can’t he understand it? When he gets to the front, he still hasn’t made a decision. 

“Do you have any questions?” The barista asks. His eyes haven’t stopped flicking between Hyunwoo and Hoseok, like he’s trying to figure out what just happened. At least someone else is as confused as he.

“Ah, no.”

He orders a plain iced coffee void of any flowery labels rather than try to figure out something he doesn't know.

“Name?”

Sounds more like a threat than a question, since the guy is basically glaring at him.

“Hyunwoo.”

“We’ll call you when it’s ready.”

After being handed a receipt more forceful than necessary, he seats himself in the emptiest corner, keeping his hands folded in his lap. For someone so large, he can shrink himself down and feel as small as he would be if laid bare on someone’s palm.

He looks down to his watch, wondering how long it will be until his order is called so he can leave. The time ticks in his mind even though no such sound is playing. Keyboards click, steel machines filter hot coffee into lowered pots, but the hands of his wrist watch are virtually soundless. He waits, imaginary beats playing over and over again until the regret of the spontaneous detour seeps deeper.

His name doesn’t ever get called, instead Hoseok brings over his drink. Avoidance of everyone in the vicinity keeps failing him. Was it always this hard to be on his own?

Hyunwoo looks up from the coffee being placed in front of him. The man’s even taken off his apron, no longer looking like a worker and instead a patron, just as Hyunwoo. Maybe to make him more comfortable. Or maybe just because it’s inconvenient to wear.

“I didn’t mean to bother you at work?” he says honestly, unsure where to proceed.

“Who says you’re bothering?”

“I’m taking you away from your job, aren’t I?”

The shop is near full, a longer line has formed since his own ordering.

“Not at all. I took a break,” he waves a hand over his clothing. “And I am here with you because I want to be.”

“Your boss doesn’t seem to happy, though.” 

He nods his head back to the counter and Hoseok follows him. Both catch sight of the man who served Hyunwoo staring, but he quickly looks down to the register. Hoseok rolls his eyes, dismissive rather than concerned.

“Kihyun’s just nosy, he isn’t mad. Besides, I can do with my break what I want.”

“I bet you have better things to do that sit with me.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, then maybe there is nothing better.”

“I should go, I’m taking up your time,” he insists once more. Hoseok stops him with a hand on his shoulder before he can even stand from his seat.

“You keep running away from me.”

Hyunwoo’s mouth feels like cotton, choking down any word threatening to form. He closes it, opens, wets his lips to get rid of the dry sensation and give himself more time to think. Hoseok follows every movement. He watches so intently, as if he glances away even for a second, Hyunwoo will disappear. 

He’s right. 

Not discouraged by the lull, the other takes a seat next to him, just as close as the night they ate together before. Even in the pleasant atmosphere, he’s uncomfortable. But Hoseok waits, letting Hyunwoo gather his words and speak.

The more he thinks about, he’s never going to get anywhere if he doesn’t.

“I thought I scared you that first night.” 

Their first encounter he was delirious, pain clouding all of his senses. Now only that, but he was covered with blood; an eerie liquid for something so human. It was so obvious he was hurt, then he worsened the moment by admitting to it not all being his own. Who wouldn’t be scared?

Now this third meeting? He can’t imagine why Hoseok doesn’t want to run away.

“I was more scared wondering if you were okay.”

“But why?”

“You seemed nice and like someone who needed help. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because there’s no need to. You shouldn’t waste your time.”

“Do you think you’re not worth it?”

_Yes_, tips the edge of his tongue, but admitting so sounds worse than death. That his entire charade of saying he’s going to do better has only ever been a lie, that he subconsciously knew he would never go anywhere, and only continues because what other choice does he have?

He doesn’t want to lie to himself. He’s done it enough trying to convince himself that he’s fine waiting for what’s been a not so distant dream.

The silence that follows blares louder than the sounds of the coffee shop. Clinks and taps are swallowed by the emptiness of their lapse. He can’t think of anything to fill in. 

Maybe this time around it’ll be the end, because he doesn’t press further. 

Hoseok’s eyes soften. His hand has formed a fist, clenching and releasing until he completely flattens it out to tap the wooden counter. Hyunwoo can’t figure out what he’s wavering over.

“Do you run?”

“Do I.. run?”

“Yeah, do you run? I know you box, right?

“Yes?” he answers, still confused.

“Then would you like to go for a run with me?”

Of the endless possibilities forming what could be said next, that’s what comes. Whatever you could call it, offer, proposition, Hoseok wants to see him again. He’s sure he looks as lost as he feels.

“Just a simple morning run. It could be fun? Besides, I haven’t had anyone to come with me in awhile.”

“And you want me to go?”

“Of course, that’s why I suggested it.”

In searching for a lie, he sees nothing but Hoseok’s earnest face. Still, he hesitates.

“I’m not sure.”

“Don’t think you can keep up?”

The glint in his eyes tells Hyunwoo he’s said it on purpose, a challenge. Without thinking, he buys into it. 

He’s a fighter at the end of it all, a menace in the ring, someone who takes physical challenges head on when presented. A little jog with the barista would be nothing. He doesn’t know why he needs to prove it, but he does. 

So he accepts. 

By Hoseok’s smug grin, he’s not sure if he won or lost.

0

Hyunwoo stands near the railing, already having stretched more than enough to begin his run, but he’s prepared to do more. The imaginary ticks in his mind have started again, but there’s no clock. He doesn’t even have headphones in this time around to pretend they’re not ringing.

He’s woken up bright and early, before the sun rises too high and makes the air warm and stiff. Before the populace fills all the sidewalks and corners walking to their daily destinations, making it hard for him to maneuver his path.

Morning runs are something he’s used to, but nerves come over him just as they would before a match. This time around, his exercise won’t be alone, as he’s waiting for another to join him. 

A run, _with Hoseok_, of all things. He agreed and while he actually feels no regrets, he’s still wary. He’s waiting for the moment Hoseok ultimately decides he no longer wants to bother with him. He’s removed himself as much as he can to avoid feeling anything when that time comes. 

He pulls his leg behind himself once more, feels the stretch in his hamstrings. Before he can debate on whether or not to start his stretches over once again, Hoseok’s silhouette forms in the distance. 

He doesn’t run away, even if the thought passes through his mind for a moment.

Dressed similarly to himself, Hoseok looks all too pleased. Most likely because Hyunwoo actually showed. 

He’s giving this a chance, the nerves pounding through him tell him to reconsider, but he doesn’t. 

“Good morning,” he says politely.

“Good morning,” his joy seeps in his words. “Ready?”

Hyunwoo nods, feeling the same anticipation that bubbles within him as he walks down the shabby hallway leading to his shared stage. While the nerves have settled over the years, the first had been the worst of all. Ears clogged, head pounding, fingers twitching, this feels much like that. Except now, he knows how to hold up a facade.

“Make sure to keep up.”

Hoseok gives him one last grin before turning back and nodding Hyunwoo to follow. 

He breathes in _3.. 2.. 1.._

And so they go.

0

Hyunwoo collapses on the fresh cut grass of the park. It’s dewy, cold. If his shirt wasn’t already damp from sweat it would be now because of the water. Still, it’s refreshing after their last hour. Hoseok had them switch between fast sprints, steady jogs, and vigorous walks, only stopping when absolutely necessary.

Neither let the other get too far out of range. Sometimes Hyunwoo would take the lead, making Hoseok pick up his pace until they were at least evenly matched. Hoseok would do the same, but he always looked back to make sure Hyunwoo was still following.

Next to him, Hoseok breathes just as hard. While Hyunwoo flopped on the floor, the other sits instead. The park is livelier now that the sun has risen. It's louder for sure, as people walk or sprint past, to the dogs that refuse to quiet after spotting another. Something crunches, adding to the bustling area. In seconds, Hoseok chugs half his water bottle, handing over the rest for Hyunwoo to drink himself. Having left his own at his apartment, he’s grateful.

"How are you holding up?" Hoseok asks.

"Fine. I just need to catch my breath."

"Don't die on me now."

"You're breathing just as hard."

To prove him wrong, Hoseok holds his breath, cheeks puffing out from his last, long inhale of air. He looks like a chipmunk, the soft curves protrude from his face shrinking his lips in their hold. Seconds tick, the only noises then are in fact his own deep inhales. Hyunwoo loses his breath before it's evened out, laughing at what he sees.

Hoseok crumbles moments after Hyunwoo, it's less than a minute before he releases his breath and knocks over by his side. 

“I haven’t ran with someone in,” he stops to think. He doesn’t know if he’s ever run with someone outside of primary school.

“I haven’t ran with anyone either,” Hoseok fills in. "My friends even stopped coming with me when I go to the gym.”

"They're immune to your charm after seeing the hell you'd put them through I bet."

"Oh, but it worked on you?"

_Maybe just a bit._

"Or maybe I was going to go for a run anyways."

“Sure. Also I’m impressed. No one can usually keep up."

“I run almost everyday, just so you know.” He’s breathing out of time sure, but he keeps fit. If “exercise” is ultimately his livelihood, he refuses to let himself grow feeble.

“Oh,” the other calls, raising an eyebrow. “Then are we on for tomorrow?”

He feels great, even if he was ultimately challenged (and maybe even thrown from meeting an equal match) to race around one of the many city parks. He doesn’t hate the thought of doing it again.

“Same time?”

“I’ll see you here.”

0

Bright and early, just the same time as before, Hyunwoo shows up at the far end of the park. He stretches, long and slow movements he feels in every muscle as he bends forwards and back. All of the build doesn't necessarily calm him, it only helps build the mask. He doesn't show the nervousness when he can help it. He'll cover it up until he's out of trouble.

Even if they've already done this before, his worry has reset itself.

His cover is solidified just as Hoseok makes his appearance. Despite the early hour, he's already grinning, what he expects of a morning person. While he can handle rising early, he's certainly less chipper.

"You came again."

"I said I would." Hyunwoo's brows furrow. "Didn't I?"

"You did, just." Hoseoks shakes his head. "Never mind. All stretched and ready?"

Just in time, he is.

"Then let's go."

The pair goes through another hour of vigorous jogging. It's easy somehow, being able to run with someone. He guesses because he doesn't need to say anything. Trying to speak to one another would steal breaths away when they should be focusing on holding their stomachs tight.

He can do it, the running, as it's uninterrupted, but when it's over he again doesn't know how to fill the space again. He glances over and over to his wrist watch, seeing the hour quickly pass over. His time is being eaten up, leading him right up until he'll have to speak again.

Their trip leads them right back to where they started, on the edge of the park where still few people stand. It's quiet enough that their pants carry.

Hyunwoo can run for a long time and keep an adequate pace. It took him a bit to realize, but he's more tired than normal, because their entire run was endless spans of trying to outrun the other. He wasn't managing himself this time around, his job was turned into a game, that wasn't unpleasant at all. He had fun.

By the spark he sees when they meet eyes again, Hyunwoo knows Hoseok did, too.

"Want to go get something from a food stand?" Hoseok asks after a beat. "I don't think we'd want to go to a restaurant right now." He points to their clothes, sweat stains filling their backs. 

The small gurgle of his stomach answers for him. It's all the other needs as a response, because Hoseok grabs his arm and starts pulling him in the direction of the small vendors mixed with the shops down the road. Immediately his nose is filled with fresh food, warm and fried that make his mouth water.

Realistically, he should probably use the ingredients already in his fridge before wasting more money, but Hoseok's iron grip has him locked. The rumbling of his stomach doesn't go away, either. If it's small, he can spare it.

Hoseok seems to know exactly what he wants, leading him to a vendor down the line. When he stops to let go, Hyunwoo can look at the menu, and thankfully, the prices aren't out of budget. They each take their turn to order, Hoseok ordering miles more than he does. It shouldn't be surprising such a built guy would have the stomach for a lot.

Food in hand, they shift off to the side. Hoseok needs more hands to hold his treats, it takes him a second to balance all of it, but he gets it.

Hyunwoo himself only bought one thing, repeating in his mind he's on a budget and doesn't need to frivolously spend. But he didn't need to anyways, Hoseok offers to let Hyunwoo try all of his snacks. He tries to decline, but once again the man is insistent.

They pass the bags back and forth, munches filling the air. He'll hand the right one over before Hoseok points to which one. The other offers Hyunwoo the entire bag of what he clearly liked best.

"Do you always run this route?" Hoseok asks when they've nearly reached the end of the food.

"I like this park, but I also like to switch it up."

"How about we go somewhere different tomorrow?"

"Do you want to pick where?"

"How about.." Hoseok tilts his head back.

Again and again, when Hoseok smiles, there's a nervous flutter in Hyunwoo's stomach. He's going to see him again, at least for one more day. He doesn't want to admit to the burst of happiness that filters through him.

0

Almost everyday for the next three weeks, he and Hoseok meet up. They mostly run, some days Hoseok asks to change it up with the public equipment available at the park for use. The man definitely has him beat in circumference, but Hyunwoo is broad and doesn’t back down so easily.

Some days they don’t run at all. They’ll brush off their scheduled exercise, knowing it can be done later in favor of stepping away. Hoseok changes up their evening meals after Hyunwoo’s matches to early morning breakfasts or sunny brunches, expanding their relationship from simple gym partners or convenient late night meal acquaintances to something Hyunwoo is afraid to label. 

Every time Hyunwoo thinks he won’t want to meet again, they do. Hoseok fills in the space when he doesn’t know what to say, but also makes him feel comfortable enough to speak at all. He feels free, and eventually they find themselves in a comfortable rhythm where they create conversation from nothing and can switch up without a second thought.

His favorite moments, though, end up being where they both fall into giggling fits just from meeting eyes. Words aren’t always needed and they still find amusement with each other. Whether or be little peeks or longing looks, they're sure to start cackling that only ends when they finally find a new topic to fill the air.

As daunting as it all is, suddenly engaging daily with someone he would have never gotten involved with in the first place, but he’s having a great time. His days are more than just looking to fill a bleak space. They’re comfortable, sunny, and he’s not alone.

It’s so much more than he’s ever given himself. He wants to bask in it as long as he can, before there is an inevitable fall. He's not begging for the moment to come, in fact he wants to push it off as far as he can, still it's simply a reality he cannot escape. When his mind wanders, questioning whether or not he’s making the right decision, he pushes the thoughts away and continues. 

And when he has to get back to “work”, he’s reminded of how much he needs to get away.

0

Silence usually fills his routine before heading under the spotlights, but this time around he’s antsy. He sits on the worn bed, runs his hands over the sheets over and over even when he’s already smoothed them out. His mind overflows with questions and worries, from what he’s been doing and where it’ll all go, and he needs to address them.

Pushing down to the depths of his thoughts only works so much, and he unfortunately can’t keep them out of his mind this evening. So when someone he knows and trusts enters the grimy back room, he’s desperate enough to pose them.

“Jooheon,” he calls, making the other blink back. He never speaks first, most of the time he doesn't say anything at all.

“That’s me?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” 

Nerves aside, he decides there’s no need to be vague.

“What would you do if someone just kept talking to you. And you didn’t know why. Any time you tried to get them to stop, they just kept going.”

The persistence hasn’t been a bad thing, not for a while. And that’s part of the reason he’s afraid. He’s given in, the doubts are what get to him. He doesn’t know how long this will last and why trying to originally end it on his own terms hadn't worked.

“This isn’t about me and you, is it?” The man laughs, but his voice goes up high, anxious by the possible answer coming. He didn't mean to make him nervous.

“No,” Hyunwoo assures.

Jooheon immediately sighs, relieved.

“Is this person annoying?”

He thinks, “No.”

“Are they bothering you?”

“I feel more like I’m bothering them.”

“Do you like talking to this person?”

He does, ever since they sat down in the lowly light of the ramen shop. Wariness hasn’t entirely overtaken his enjoyment. He looks forward to meeting Hoseok time and time after.

Jooheon juts his lips out, pouting as he thinks. He could be thinking really hard, or just scrambling for anything. All of the little things he does amuse him. The theatrics add a little more.

Hitting a eureka, Jooheon finally walks further into the room and takes a seat next to him on the small, but surprisingly sturdy cot. 

“Think about it, Hyunwoo, you enjoy their company. They keep coming around and you actually don’t hate it. You keep telling yourself you’re bothering them, but didn’t you just say they’re the ones that keep talking to you?”

He nods.

“You’re not a bad guy Hyunwoo. You’re a great friend, just reserved because you don’t want to think you’re imposing yourself on others. Trust me, I wish you’d bother me. I don’t quit bugging because I want to know you’re okay. Maybe this person is the same way. All up in your business because it’s the only way we’ll ever get in.”

It’s one of the facts he’s been struggling with since the beginning, but habitually shoves down to the lowest depths of his mind. Whether or not he is that good guy. Whether or not he’s worth it all.

Jooheon has always stood trying to convince him he’s worth it, and now Hoseok is doing the same thing. Their efforts are endless, yet he remains unconvinced. 

How much longer can he argue? This time around he can at least consider it more rather than deny it without any regard.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Jooheon pats his back, firm and welcome, just as he always does. He’s really a mess isn’t he, putting all of this trouble on the younger? 

The crowd roars, interrupting their shared moment. Hyunwoo had almost forgotten where they were, needing to confront his worries rather than continue to drag them on. He glances down to the clock on his phone, it burns his eyes a little from a sudden burst in the low lighting. They’re late.

“I think that’s our cue to go. We’ve kept ‘em waiting long enough, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

So they walk, Jooheon holding his shoulders until he needs to split off down the other hallway. Hyunwoo’s breath is surprisingly calm for someone who just accepted such a revelation. The crowd screams his name, Jooheon tries to settle them only for them to get louder after he’s announced.

He’s back to the stage, ready to perform once again. 

He breathes in _3.. 2.. 1.._

0

He finishes his match, another victory thank god, then meets Hoseok after. They eat at the same noodle shop where they first ate together, where they talk and giggle with no mind of the world around them. A few times Hoseok fusses over Hyunwoo, _are you sure you’re okay?_, but he’s fine, great in fact. It’s rare to leave the ring like this, hale and lively.

They each have a drink after long consideration. One typically makes Hyunwoo sleepy to the point where he only ever does it in the comfort of his own home, and Hoseok tells him he’s not one for alcohol at all, but feeling free from his match and looser than normal, they give in.

“How does it feel? Winning.”

“Relieving.” _I need to win, earn the money, while I look for a job_, he thinks but holds his tongue. “Everyone expects a good match and I have to keep up. Don’t want to disappoint.”

Sometimes he forgets his walking on eggshells, keeping up the lie of being in boxing club. Maybe it’s not far off, but it’s not the truth either. Hoseok also hasn't bothered to question him about any specifics again.

“You must be skilled then, huh?”

He usually never buys into flattery, not wanting to fill his head with an unvalidated confidence. He’s not perfect, no matter if he tries. It's nice that Hoseok thinks highly of him. Or wants to.

“I’m just experienced.”

“But look how strong you are. Are you the best in your group?” Hoseok runs a hand up his bicep to shoulder. It tickles a bit. “You sure sound like you win a lot. In fact I think you’ve won every single match since we’ve gone out to eat, even if you’ve been hurt a bit.”

“But see, if I was the best then I wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Getting hurt doesn’t mean you’re not good.”

“I could be better.”

“That means nothing, everyone could be better in some sense. You don’t need to be so humble. If you’re good, then you’re good,” Hoseok gives him a once over. “Very good.”

“You look good yourself.”

He means his body, that he’s fit, but the wording himself makes him step back. He pretends he hasn’t been entirely captivated by Hoseok right from the beginning. 

“Except I wouldn’t want to fight you in the ring.”

“I’m sure you could hold your own, look how strong you are, too.”

“I’m not one for fighting, I prefer to go down on my own.”

Hoseok winks, making his own mouth go dry for a second. Hyunwoo takes a long swallow of his drink, finishing it all in one gulp despite the burn.

“Time to pack it up boys,” the shop owner interrupts. The stove has been shut up, pots already piled up ready to be washed.

Hoseok pulls out his phone, flashing the screen to life to check the time. It’s 1 in the morning. They accidentally stayed until closing.

The pair sets their bowls, wiping up any splashed broth just to help along, before paying and apologizing for staying out so late. The minutes give Hyunwoo time to collect himself.

As they leave the stand, Hyunwoo realizes how chilly the night has gotten. Luckily, his face is warm from his drink. Beside him Hoseok hums softly, cheeks having gone pink either from the alcohol or the nipping air, but probably both. 

The streets are entirely empty. The breeze rustles leaves along the sidewalk, it’s so quiet you can hear them all shift. He can see the faint glow around the street lights, looking like faint fireflies against the dark skies.

He always likes to be back at his place by midnight, though tonight he failed. His walk is usually long, cold, lonely, which is why he never likes to be out so late. Sometimes Hoseok will insist on walking him back, but he never accepts preferring the other to get home safe and sound before himself.

So he walks Hoseok like he has before, giving him time to work off the drink he’s had. Though, keeping a watchful eye out as they walk sobers him up regardless. They stumble a bit, Hoseok even goes as far to lock their arms, giggling in between their random quips of conversation, but they eventually find themselves at Hoseok’s door.

At his welcome mat, he finally lets go to dig for his keys. The warmth is immediately gone, but Hyunwoo can still feel the lingering sensation. The lock clicks and he’s ready to say goodbye until the night stills. Hoseok peeks his eyes up from his hands.

“Do you want to come inside?”

He’s never been, the doorstep is as far as he’s made it. He’s never been asked to go in before and he certainly never thought to invite himself. He hesitates, feeling his mouth open-

“You wouldn't be imposing. I want you to come in,” Hoseok says in one breath.

He's twiddling with his keys. The metal clinks, distracting him from thinking.

He has no match tomorrow and it is after 2 in the morning now that they took so long to walk back. He relents without any dispute.

“Okay then.”

With a shy smile, the two make their way inside. Hoseok’s place is bigger than his own, no surprise there, but it’s still only a studio. One bedroom, then one large living room to compact everything else. His gym equipment stands next to the kitchenette, dining table tangent to the television. It’s close, without being suffocating.

Hoseok slips off his shoes first, the slight scrapes take Hyunwoo from his staring to do the same.

“Coffee? Tea?”

“Either is fine.”

He shucks off his jacket, as he follows Hoseok to the kitchen. The place is warm in contrast to the breezy outside. They sit next to each other on the high stools under the counter after setting the kettle to boil. The device whirs, matching Hyunwoo's own rising anxiety. 

Their silence is never a bad thing, but in the moment he wishes he could say something rather than let a sense of discomfort persist. Even if reassured that he is welcome, he hasn’t been over as a guest to someone’s home in quite awhile. And being alone with Hoseok, separated from the outside world rather than meeting in it, feels different for some reason he can’t pinpoint. 

Suddenly, to comfort him, Hoseok places a hand on his thigh, shaking his leg a bit, and leaving it so it rests against his own. 

“Are you okay?” Being with Hoseok, he is. The sincere look he gets yanks away his last drips of worry.

“Fine, just.. Never been inside. It’s nice,” he excuses as he points to the room facing behind him.

“Thank you. Kihyun says it's messy all the time but it's not,” he whines.

The water boils, he glances around even more. Large bottles of protein fill the counter, unsurprisingly, but next to them sit bags of stove top noodles. So maybe his diet isn’t very strict. 

The tea seeps, Hoseok spoons honey into both. 

"Just a little bit is good, but if you want more then you can run even harder tomorrow."

It’s barely sweet, yet it’s the right amount. He inhales slowly, taking in the faint scent. Hoseok blows his carefully, taking in a generous sip.

Somehow the other is always messy when it comes to food, as a drip lingers on the corner of his lips. Hyunwoo stares, wondering if he should say something or the other will notice before it slips down onto his clothes. He never knows how much he should say.

Hoseok’s skin looks smooth, soft, very well kept saying he’s either naturally lucky or spends hours on a facial routine. He always ends up staring, even before the two were formally acquainted.

Hoseok was so pretty the first night they met and he’s still just as pretty now. Maybe even more so, as the heat of the room slowly warms his skin, giving him a peachy glow.

The stare goes so long, he loses the grip on his cup.

He spills his tea all over himself.

Hoseok jumps back, immediately reaching for a nearby towel.

“Are you hurt? Does it burn?”

“I’m fine,” he assures over and over. “Let me help you. I’m sorry for spilling.”

“I’ll get this after,” he brushes off. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Hoseoks drags him to the bedroom away from the kitchen even after wanting to clean everything up.

“You can use anything you want in the bath,” he says, suddenly. It’s nearing three, and they still haven’t slept, but now the tea has seeped through his sweater onto his skin. “I’ll get you some clothes to wear after.”

He’s shooed off to the shower at last. Clean white tiles surround him, even the mirror looks spotless. He strips easily, thankfully he has no fresh wounds, only bruises faded and yellow that no longer sear with pain. He drops his sweater onto his pants, to avoid leaving a wet spot on the floor.

Stepping in, he finds a large array of soaps and shampoos, each with different smells. He doesn’t know what to choose. He opens a few, picks something light in fragrance as a wash and scentless soap to wipe away the grime from the day.

He feels a little selfish for making use of the warm water, but it’s something he doesn’t have the luxury of back at his own apartment. Also, better for him to be clean.

He wipes off the lingering drops of water on his chest after he steps out. He pauses, staring down to the floor. He doesn’t want to put on his worn clothing, as it would defeat the purpose of his shower.

He peeks his head out of the door, hiding himself the slightest even if he’s covered with a towel around the waist.

“You said something about clothes?”

He finds the other sitting on his bed. Hoseok puts down his phone, waits for a moment. Hyunwoo shies away from the gaze, looking back inside but sees not even himself in the reflection as the mirror is steamed.

He hears Hoseok get close, handing over a set of clean clothes.

“Thank you,” he remembers to say before shutting the door and getting dressed. He keeps his hand on the door knob, before inhaling and opening it. The other is still standing after folding up his jacket and leaving it on the dresser.

“I’m going to shower, too. Wait here.”

He doesn’t ask to clarify where ‘here’ is, so Hyunwoo wavers before sitting on the bed. Few thoughts come to mind as he runs his hands over the silk sheets. The place is pretty, miles different than his own. Hoseok does a good job of keeping it well tended to. He’s not the messiest person around, but living alone in a place that already isn’t in the best of conditions stops him from nitpicking over every single furniture item or left out sock.

It’s so comfortable, he feels like he’s intruding. But he was welcomed with open arms, and knowing Hyunwoo would doubt himself, Hoseok voiced it out loud. He has to learn to give himself breaks.

Hoseok steps out in the midst of his doubts, same as he had only wrapped in a towel. He looks away quicker though, ashamed from staring. Hoseok’s body is pale, without any blemishes he was able to see. It’s pretty.

“Do you mind sleeping in here tonight?” He lifts his eyes back up, unsure if he heard right. “Again, not a problem. I promise.”

What harm would it do?

“Okay then.”

They watch each other, Hoseok’s gaze never wavers even as Hyunwoo’s teeters the line. The only noise is of heavy breathing, becoming more shallow as the seconds pass. There’s nowhere to run, but this time he doesn’t want to break away, even as the man gets so close he hovers above him. He doesn’t break away even when Hoseok leans down to the last few centimeters.

Hyunwoo nods and they move once again.

Hoseok’s lips are so soft, he nearly forgets to breathe.

0

“So, what do you do?”

“Hm?”

Who would have ever guessed he would have gotten here. Hyunwoo and Hoseok spent the afternoon at a park, immediately after Hoseok’s shift at the coffee shop ended. They had muffins and fruit, picked and paid for both by Hyunwoo to surprise the other a few days after they stayed out later than expected. 

Now, they’re sitting on Hoseok’s floor, movie playing in the background, but long forgotten. Hyunwoo admittedly had his full attention on his bowl of ice cream, munching every once and awhile when the toppings found their way onto his spoon.

“What do you actually do?” Hoseok says again. “Is fight club really this bad?” He points to Hyunwoo’s forehead, scraped up from a match the previous night. It barely bled, so he didn’t bother with heavy bandages. “I can see the scars.”

He’s been nothing but at ease with Hoseok after his chat with Jooheon. Deciding to let go wasn’t easy, he hasn’t done it entirely, but it’s a slow process. Getting to this point is something admirable for himself. Learning to trust someone else, learning to let them into his world, letting himself feel free.

They’re comfortable enough that Hyunwoo does trust him.

The longer he watches, Hoseok looks more and more expectant for an answer. _And cute_, it’s like his ears wiggle up and down as he licks every single drop off of his spoon.

Why was he hiding what he does again?

“Street fighting,” he says for the first time out loud. No one has heard it, aside from those in the ring, not that he has ever left anyone room to hear it at all.

The other leaves no room for a dramatic pause, he blurts it back, loud and uncertain even though he heard correctly.

“Street fighting?!”

“Yeah…” He looks back down to the ice cream. He’s near finished, he kinda wishes he had more. He ate so fast, it didn't even have time to melt. “I’ve been in the circuit for years.”

6 years to be precise. He hasn’t always fought every week, when he first started he only came around every few months. But when his part time jobs couldn’t cut it, he entered more and more. Sad that now he doesn’t even have short jobs and still fails to find something permanent.

It’s been a long time, he almost pushed away thoughts of it.

“Why couldn’t you tell me?”

“Who wants to know that? Me and a bunch of others knock our teeth in for a living.”

Sure it requires skill, training, a strong mental fortitude, it's still something dangerous and unforgiving. Some people may play for sport, some to vent frustrations, but to those not ready for it he wouldn't wish for them to be there.

“Is it fun?”

“It’s..” He thinks of the rush of stepping under the ropes. The question of where his opponent will move next, and how he’ll have to react. He thinks of the white lights, bright, harsh on the eyes, but making him the focus of the crowd. No one dares take their eyes away. He thinks of a second of satisfaction he allows himself knowing he once again brought himself to victory. “Dangerous,” he settles on.

There’s a thrill he can’t deny about being in the ring. Something that fuels him aside from the earnings. He knows he can’t do it forever, already even falling out of wanting to continue, but while he’s in it, it’s riveting. He wouldn't have gotten into it if he didn't think he could handle it.

“Can I come see one of your matches?”

“You don’t want to see that.”

“But I do. I want to support you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

_Oh yeah_, that was why.

“I don’t think you should come.”

Hoseok shouldn’t be around something like that. He doesn’t need to see Hyunwoo at his lowest, desperately fighting for scraps of cash.

It’s grimy, stomach churning, something he’s still intent on leaving. Just because he has had fall backs, he hasn’t lost his goal entirely. Staying in the ring isn’t plausible. He won’t drag Hoseok down after all he’s done to lift Hyunwoo up.

“I want to go,” he pouts, but Hyunwoo isn’t going to budge.

“I don’t want you to go,” he answers back firm, without any explanation.

Hoseok can pout over it, but it’s the one thing he won’t give into. No one should be there and he won’t willingly bring someone to watch.

But the other’s eyes flash hurt, which is exactly what he doesn’t want. Hoseok cares about him, he cares about Hoseok, that’s why he doesn’t want him to go, but the words are stuck on his tongue.

He doesn’t speak again, neither does him. Both stare down into their bowl. The sweet cream finally melted.

“I’m going to go.”

He can’t stand the silence, not this kind. It’s more tense than when talking about the blood covering Hyunwoo as he laid in front of the coffee shop. He genuinely hurt the other, but won’t try and fix it if it means giving Hoseok permission to watch him.

The movie is paused, settling the silence even more. For a second Hyunwoo thinks Hoseok will just stay there, until a few seconds later that Hoseok follows him.

“Hyunwoo, wait,” he says only when he’s close behind.

He drops his disposable bowl into the trash, walks to the door and slips on his shoes. He never looks up, never answers.

“I didn’t mean to push,” he tries again.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” he cuts off coldly as Hoseok rubs his hands together, apologetic. “I shouldn’t have overstayed.”

“You weren’t bothering. You never do. Same time?” he tries, but Hyunwoo doesn’t give it to him. He walks out of the door leaving Hoseok to stare at his shoes.

0

Hyunwoo’s stomach churns. He can barely stomach food, even the thought of eating is unappealing, as it has been for the past few days.

He hasn’t spoken to Hoseok for three days, since their last and only real disagreement. Hoseok doesn’t reach out, and Hyunwoo doesn’t feel like he has the right to. He doesn’t know if he’s ever had it.

If he upset the other once, then he won’t risk doing it again. He’ll leave it as it is, accepting the mistake. Also accepting it as the end of whatever they had going on. No more daily runs, no more food outings, no more lingering glances met with subtle affections.

He wishes that could be the end of it, but the guilt eats at him. He has pushed Hoseok away, in the last way he ever expected. It's his fault, but because of his own current actions rather than his past.

He can’t get the reality of it out of his mind. It follows him all the way to the back room of the underground stadium where he is set to fight.

When Jooheon steps in, he feels no relief. He stares blankly at the door, covering up a sense of gut churning dread.

At least he’s not twitching.

Jooheon asks if he’s ready, but he’s not. There’s no time left for him to try and get there. For a moment, he drowns out any words or sounds, he hears nothing but the repeated play of Hoseok’s disappointment. He stands, preparing to go out.

The long walk of the eerie hallway is his last moment to seize any sort of peace.

“You're fighting someone I haven’t seen here in years, but I think you’ve fought him before?”

He hears the name, it takes him a few seconds, but he remembers. The match that made his name known, and essentially put an end to the other man for six months. He played dirty, so Hyunwoo played dirty back. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but fighting for his life was a sure fire justification, regardless of an absence of official rules.

It was the only match he’s ever gone for the throat.

“He’s been fighting on another circuit, won almost every match he’s fought in the past two years. From what I’ve heard, he plays a bit dirty. Goes for lower kicks when someone’s down, too.”

He nods, finding use in the information this time. If someone is going to play dirty, he needs to be ready. He wishes this match isn’t the exact time he’s not feeling like himself. He thanks Jooheon, though, before he runs off and out his typical entrance.

He listens to the crowd, their typical rowdy chants, he can drown himself in them. They’re cheering because he’s there, he has to be. He will put on a show, he'll amaze the crowd, it's what he always does. He walks closer to the doorway.

Waiting for his name to be called, Hyunwoo loses his thoughts. His stomach drops with the same ferocity of a roller coaster.

Just outside of the entryway standing in the crowd, he sees him. Hoseok.

Hoseok who keeps him company (and on his toes, literally) for weekly runs. Hoseok who he spends his morning and evenings with. Hoseok who he cooks for, Hoseok who buys food for him when he wants to go out. Hoseok who has shared more than just words with their mouths. 

He looks lost, definitely out of place to the rambunctious crowd. He even brought Kihyun with him, who looks less like he wants to be there. He’s never formally met the man, but he knows enough that they’re close, close enough that he would do anything for Hoseok. Even coming to the dirtiest part of the city, immersing themselves in a sweaty crowd, to watch as two frenzied opponents lay their lives out. 

“-Here he comes, Shownuuu.”

He can’t keep his eyes on the crowd, he needs to enter the ring, but his steps move slow and heavy.

The walk between the bleachers is louder than it’s ever been, food flies, hands poke out through the railing to wave wildly trying to reach him. He avoids them all until he steps under the ropes.

Jooheon keeps his eyes on him, worried, squinting to decipher the issue. He nods his head in his direction, wordlessly asking if he’s alright.

Hyunwoo nods back, whether or not it’s the truth.

His opponent is introduced with the same eager voice that always riles up the crowd. The man looks nearly the same as before, except for his eyes, they're just as worn as Hyunwoo's. The ring's been hard to them both.

The two shake hands. Hyunwoo says nothing, the other man smirks.

He breathes in _3.. 2.. 1.._

0

The first round finishes, immediately leading to the second. Then the third. Then the fourth. They’re in the middle of the fifth. At this rate, Hyunwoo thinks they’ll make it all the way until eight.

His body pulses, he hears the blood ring in his ears, it’s just as loud as his quickened exhales.

The man has no openings, but Hyunwoo is desperate to find one. Blood drips from his head, littering the white, canvas floor. The man unfortunately fairs better than himself. He's never wanted a match to end so badly.

Another bell rings, signaling the end of the round. Jooheon has to drag Hyunwoo to the corner. All he can see are the flashes of lights and Jooheon’s freshly dyed red hair.

“Shownu, how are you doing out there. Honestly.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

He dares peak his head over to the crowd, away from the ring to find black hair sitting over thin wired frames. Hoseok’s still standing in the front row, gripping Kihyun’s sleeve with his hands. Both look nervous, no longer from the crowd but from the match they're watching.

Their eyes meet and he doesn’t look away.

The lights don’t blare, they only light up the bleachers. The sounds no longer beat over and over again, even Jooheon who’s screaming in his ears. No noise disturbs their silent conversation.

Hoseok promised he wanted to be by his side, and in a way he is, even when separated by a walkway and a rope. If he loses this, he'll disappoint him again. He can't do that.

The bell rings, the match starts once again.

0

It’s what he needed, a second of clarity. Hyunwoo gets hit footing back after the timer strikes them to start.

The crowd cheers his name, back on his side, encouraging him more as he gets hits in. He’s nearly found a rhythm, just a little bit longer and he'll be there. He feels it in his arms, whether reflex or strategy, he’s succeeding.

The frustration in his opponent is obvious now that Hyunwoo is back in the game. His brows furrow, he brings in his arms tight to block out Hyunwoo’s blows.

Not seeing anything from under his arms as he's caged in, Hyunwoo feels a leg kick at his own. He kicks, stomps, knocking him out of his stance the second he pulls back from his last punch. He’s aware of it, thinking he can find his balance once more, until he loses his steps, and slips back against the rope.

The stadium nearly shares a gasp, but he can’t really tell as he falls down.

“Shownu!” He hears. It rings in his ears. He knows he’s being called, but can’t fathom a response as he collapses. The mat under him is hard, scratchy, he doesn’t think he’s ever been on it like this. Unable to get back up.

The bells shriek, signaling the end, but his opponent doesn’t cease. Each blow resounds like a thud, looking from the inside out he doesn’t feel anything only sees each clash of curled fists or kicking feet. The pain will soon be to come. He keeps going, and going, until someone finally pulls him off, scolding him for his violent play.

Jooheon runs on stage, Hyunwoo doesn’t know when he got there. Dozens of eyes hover above like he’s on display. It’s always been like that he thinks, except now they’re a foot away. They’re too close. He feels like a test subject under a microscope.

There’s more shouting, but he has no sense or distinction for any of it. Jumbled messes run over each other trying to come out the loudest while Jooheon and a medic hold his eyes open.

But they don’t stay, the image disappears into a black wisp and then nothing.

0

He comes to, finds himself surrounded by filth. He’s in his back room, laying on the bed from what he can tell. As he glances his eyes over, he sees Jooheon, listening intently, because the medic is still in the room.

It only takes him a second to piece together how he got there and what he’s doing. He was mid fight, took a bad fall, and at his expense, the other didn't give him a chance to recover.

“He’s awake,” a third party interrupts.

Hyunwoo’s eyes flick over, finding exactly who he doesn’t want to see in the back room. Hoseok is there, of all the places he could be. He shouldn’t be here.

“Hoseok-“ his voice comes out small, muffled from a pain stirring in his neck as he tries to lift himself.

“Shh,” he helps him back down. "Don't say anything if it hurts."

Hoseok looks concerned, his mouth pulled into a frown, eyes trembling along with his hands. Even as delirious as he is, Hyunwoo can tell Hoseok looks like he’s being torn apart, he shouldn’t look like that. Not for Hyunwoo.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Jooheon follows. “Hyunwoo, let’s go to a hospital. It was a bad fall and that bastard kept going at you even when he was supposed to stop.”

“There’s no need,” he tries to assure them, but his words don’t change their expressions. They don’t believe him, he hasn’t even convinced himself. He’ll keep it up, anything to free them of their worries.

“If you don’t come with me I’ll call an ambulance right now.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he wheezes. “You could risk the entire place. If the cops come, then this is all over.”

“I would, right now.”

“Jooheon, there’s no need. I’ve fallen before.”

“Hyunwoo,” Hoseok breaks in. The entire time he had been avoiding his eyes. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

He’s ready to tell him no, not wanting to burden Hoseok even further. He doesn’t deserve the kindness. Now that he’s seen him at his lowest, now that he hurt the other, there’s no point in trying to fix it.

“If I go like this, they’re going to ask questions. We can’t have that.”

Hyunwoo zones out once more while Jooheon and Hoseok question the medic. Maybe he should go, but he’s holding himself back. There’s no need to take down the entire place because he’s hurt. It’s other peoples’ livelihoods at stake just as it's his own.

“Why can’t we just take him?” Hoseok asks. He’s getting fussy, that much Hyunwoo can tell from his tone. The man is surprisingly stubborn, but looking at their entire history, it's not out of character.

“If the police find out about this place, then we’re done. The cops on our side only do so much to keep this place under wraps."

“Then please, we don’t need to go to a hospital tonight, but at least come to my house where you can sleep on a bed. I have stuff to clean you up.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. I promise, you’re not a burden. You don’t want to be a freeloader but you’re not. Tonight, please, just until I know you’re okay come with me.”

“I can’t do that to you.”

“Where else do you have to go that you won't be alone?” Jooheon asks stony.

He has his home. Empty and cold, where he’d sleep with injuries pressed into the hard floor. It's not always where he wants to be, but it's somewhere he can go.

“Please,” Hoseok persists. He’s seated into the single chair next to the bed, grasping for Hyunwoo’s hand.

It's always been so hard to say no to him. Time and time again he tries to get away, instead they become friends, instead they get close, instead Hyunwoo trusts him. And maybe because the thought of going back with Hoseok feels more like home than his own.

He says okay.

0

Hoseok, Jooheon, and a medic all carefully move Hyunwoo to Hoseok’s place. Their moves are slow, it feels like hours pass until he’s finally settled. He’s forced to stay awake the entire time.

Stepping inside, Hoseok insists he take the bed rather than the couch, both being more than aware there’s enough room. He almost wants to refuse to avoid inconveniencing him, but Hoseok’s cheeks puff out, and he stands unyielding until Hyunwoo accepts.

The bed is soft, he lays down gently, already mourning the sheets that will no doubt end up blood stained. First the counter and the chair from the tea, now the bedding. All dirty from him.

The medic rechecks all of his wounds, making sure they’re disinfected and properly wrapped. He does his best to hold back any hisses or groans, but the disinfectant stings worse than usual because there’s so much of it. 

Hours pass before the medic finally leaves Jooheon and Hoseok behind. Because of how much he had to do, bloodied rags need to be washed and many dirty supplies now fill the trash. He gave Hoseok a list of notes on how to care for him, or maybe it was Hoseok who chose to take notes himself, he couldn’t really tell.

He hears the sigh of relief come from his two friends. They’re most likely exhausted, but needed to stay awake and aware to watch over Hyunwoo. They never left his side.

When Hoseok slips away to use the restroom after hours of holding it, Jooheon slips close enough to whisper in his ear.

“Who is this guy?” He asks. Hyunwoo almost wants to laugh, because isn’t it a little late for that? “Wait! Is this the friend you once asked me about.”

“He is.”

“And I can leave you here? You’ll be okay? Do you trust him?”

“Jooheon, I’m going to be fine.”

“If you need any help at all, call.”

Hoseok steps out, Jooheon steps away.

“Can I get you anything else for tonight?”

“No thanks, I’m going to go home. Take care of him.”

Hoseok nods, promising him he will. Jooheon lingers, glancing over the place, observing, picking it apart, but finds no problems. He slips on his shoes and shuts the door quietly.

They’re alone, alone again in Hoseok’s home. The memories of a few days ago resurface and so does the guilt.

“How do you feel?”

“I’ve felt worse.” He shifts, pain shooting up his spine. “Or maybe not, but I’ll be fine.”

“You always say that. It’s okay not to be fine.”

“Even if I’m not now, I’m going to be.”

Hoseok reaches out, probably wanting to grab his hand, but pulls back.

“It’s okay, my arm is fine.”

So he reaches forward again, carefully, and Hyunwoo laces their fingers.

“I’m sorry for getting mad at you the other day. I just didn’t want you to see what I do. It isn't anything special. It’s not worth it. Look at how I am right now.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed, that was my fault. I was just curious. I thought it would be okay to be by your side.”

“I do want you there,” he admits. His head feels warm, and it’s not just the heated apartment. “But I just didn’t want you to be somewhere so dirty.”

“I would go anywhere if it meant you weren’t alone.”

He goes soft at that. This entire time he’s fought to be by Hyunwoo’s side and all he could do was push him away.

“I should have explained. I’m sorry I didn’t. I won’t run away again.”

"So you’ll stay?”

Hoseok’s asking, straightforward and without any teasing or deception. He wants him to be there. And maybe Hyunwoo wants to be, too. 

“I want to, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a showho so high key i was super nervous but i hope it came out good??
> 
> please let me know ;A;
> 
> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/imwhatistan)


End file.
